


His Protector

by believesinponds



Series: ColdWave Week 2016 [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Coldwave Week 2016, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, it's what he does, mick stands up for len
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 17:47:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6249523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/believesinponds/pseuds/believesinponds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every time Len finds himself in captivity, Mick is there to stand up for him.</p>
<p>[ColdWave Week 2016 - Day 1: In Captivity]</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Protector

**Author's Note:**

> COLDWAVE WEEK IS HEEEERE!!!!! I am so happy. This is going to be the best week everrrrrr.

It was his first day in juvy. Fourteen years old. He was smaller than most of the kids there and new to the system. As far as he could tell, he hadn’t actually done anything to gang of guys that surrounded him. Apparently his size alone was enough to warrant a punch to the gut and a few kicks to the ribs.

Of course, he was intimately familiar with taking a beating.

He fought back as best as he could, but he was not prepared for one of the bigger guys to have a shiv. As soon as Len saw it he knew that he was going to die there, in juvy, his little sister only three years old. He would never get to see her grow up. She probably wouldn't even remember him.

“Hey! What the fuck’re you doin’?”

The kid with the shiv snapped his head up and his eyes widened. Most of the others scattered. Len looked up to see a big guy with lots of muscles and a mean-looking face looming over them.

“I said,” the big guy growled, grabbing Len’s attacker by the front of his uniform. “What are you doing?”

“Nothin’! I swear! I wasn’t doin’ anything!”

The big guy snatched the weapon from his hand and swung at him with his fist, connecting right in the stomach. The kid doubled over but didn't say anything else.

His rescuer pointed the shiv with a menacing scowl. “If I ever see you messin’ with this kid again, I won't just use my fist.”

The kid nodded and ran off as soon as the big guy let go.

“You all right?”

Len tilted his head in a slow nod and took the proffered hand. The guy hauled him up and brushed some of the dirt off his back.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Len. Leonard Snart. Thanks for that. I owe you.”

The guy snorted. “Nah, you don’t owe me anything, Snart. Just don’t let ‘em get the upper hand on you next time.”

Len nodded.

“First day?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on. I’ll show you around.”

***

The next time he was locked up, it was in his own bedroom. He was sixteen and he had indicated to his father that he wasn’t really interested in continuing the family business.

He should have learned a long time ago that Lewis Snart didn’t take “no” for an answer.

As he unscrewed the tub of salve that he kept hidden under his mattress, Len heard a rock hit his window. He froze for a brief second and then hurried off the bed before the idiot could throw another one and alert his father to the fact that Len had a visitor.

“Mick!” he hissed, gliding the window open silently. “Are you insane?”

“Stand back. I’m coming in.”

Len’s window was obscured from the street by a large tree, but if the next door neighbor decided to peek over then he would be done for. He frowned down at his friend. He didn’t want him to get caught, but...he really could use a dose of Mick Rory tonight. He stepped aside and watched the other boy climb up the tree and into his room.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Len said, but he was already reaching out and Mick enveloped him in his strong arms.

“Figured something must’ve happened when you didn’t show at the theater. You okay?”

Len pulled back and shrugged. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

He watched Mick’s eyes travel over him and then dart to the opened-but-unused salve on his nightstand. Mick frowned and led him back to the bed, pushing him down gently.

“Mick--”

“Take off your shirt and lie down Lenny,” he said, his voice firm.

Len sighed and rolled his eyes, but he followed Mick’s instructions.

“What happened?” he asked, smoothing salve-covered fingers over the biggest bruise on his stomach.

“I was stupid,” Len muttered.

“ _Lenny_. You know that’s not true. Your old man is an asshole and that ain’t your fault.”

Mick’s fingers brushed over his ribs and Len winced.

“Did he get your chest?”

Len nodded.

Mick’s fingers probed gently over the bones and his face scrunched up every time Len gasped. After a minute he laid his palm flat over Len’s chest and said, “Breathe.”

Len took a few shallow breaths.

“Deeper,” Mick commanded.

Len sucked in a lungful of air and grimaced.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes.”

Mick nodded. “You have a bruised rib. Maybe fractured.”

_Shit_. It wasn’t like he could go to the doctor.

“Don’t worry,” Mick said, like he could read Len’s mind. (Sometimes Len wondered if he could.) “Ribs heal up pretty well on their own. If it gets worse after a couple days then we’ll go to a clinic.”

Len didn’t think that was a very realistic option. Hopefully it would heal up on its own.

***

At nineteen he was thrown into county jail overnight and Mick bailed him out the next morning.

***

His twenty-fourth birthday was spent in Iron Heights.

Lewis Snart was in a cell only a few hallways down from his and being back within his father’s grasp was more of a prison than the brick walls.

Two weeks later Mick got himself arrested just to look out for him.

***

Len managed to stay out of prison for almost ten years after that. He couldn’t afford to be in captivity when he needed to raise his little sister. When she went away to college at twenty-two he pulled a messy heist and got himself and Mick thrown back into Iron Heights.

His father was still there, but Len was older now. Smarter. He wouldn’t let Lewis Snart control him like he was a teenager again.

Then Lewis got wind of his relationship with Mick and, well. It was 2003. Things weren’t perfect by any means, but Len would be damned if he kept himself in the closet for another minute of his life.

His father’s gang outnumbered him six to one and he was still one of the smallest guys in the yard.

Thankfully, Mick was still one of the scariest.

“You’re an idiot.”

Len smiled at his partner through a bruised face and a black eye. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

Mick huffed and hauled him up to his feet. He rolled his eyes and supported his weight all the way to the bathroom to help him clean up. When the blood was removed from his face and the dirt was brushed off his uniform Mick pushed him into an empty shower and kissed him fiercely.

“Don’t do that again, Snart,” he muttered, his forehead pressed against Len’s.

Len touched his face and smiled. “I can’t make any promises.”

***

When he was forty-four a job went south. Mick burned and Len ran and suddenly he was without a protector.

He spent a year planning solo heists and having no contact with his estranged partner. He knew where Mick was, of course. And he was sure that Mick was keeping tabs on him, too.

It wasn’t the same.

Len wished for prison.

***

The Flash interrupted a carefully-planned job and suddenly Len knew he had an excuse to reconcile with Mick. He stole a heat gun and presented it as a peace offering.

When Mick accepted, he felt freer than he had in decades.

They ended up in a transport van. Mick was angry, his words gruff and low, his glare dangerous. But Len just closed his eyes and let his partner’s voice wash over him. He knew Lisa would come for them, he knew they wouldn’t make it out of town.

Later that night, when they were holed up in a small safe house, Len curled his arms around Mick and his partner held him close. Their lips met in a slow, deep kiss. Lisa made a gagging noise from the kitchen and Len huffed out a laugh.

It didn’t matter that they would be stuck here for a few solid weeks. It didn’t matter that the Flash had tricked them into destroying their guns. It didn’t matter that they were on the run, officially wanted by the authorities once again.

They were together. They were partners. They were a family.

It was the best kind of captivity.

**Author's Note:**

> Come join us for [ColdWave Week 2016](http://coldwaveweek.tumblr.com)! :D


End file.
